


What a Privilege it is to Hate Our Bodies

by saperks



Series: How to Get Away With Murder is Just a Class, Not the Story of Our Lives [1]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Image, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Food Issues, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saperks/pseuds/saperks
Summary: Connor genuinely thinks he’s would have fallen apart if he didn’t have something to focus on. Besides, he’s just been counting calories to make up for the lack of running. He hasn’t cut them drastically enough where it’ll be an issue, and now that things have calmed down between school and work he’ll be able to pick up running again. It’s fine, he’s fine, this is not going to become an issue.Or, Connor Walsh is lying to himself and he knows it





	1. Masterful Attempts End With Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in an alternate Universe where Annalise never got together with Sam, so none of the murder stuff goes down. I'm only at the beginning of season two, so if some personal information is off or wrong please let me know. I'll try and fix minor details as I go.
> 
> There will be very frank and graphic descriptions of eating disorders and disordered eating patterns.
> 
> The title of the story is from one of my favorite spoken words by Sierra DeMulder, it's great you should listen to it, the chapter title is slightly modified line from Dear Evan Hansen.
> 
> I'm looking for a beta reader, so if anyone wants sneak peaks in exchange for criticism I'd be very grateful.
> 
> I posted this at three am, so please let me know if you spot any mistakes.

Connor is an extremely meticulous person. It’s not the impression you get from him when you first meet him though and everyone always assumes that it’s because of Oliver that their house is as spotless that it is. Oliver always feels that it’s a bit unfair to Connor, the types of assumptions that everyone makes about him but Connor always assures him, with something akin to pride, that it’s “part of his image”

  
It is, however, why Oliver is so surprised when he walks in on a Tuesday evening to meet their apartment in mild disarray. Not only is Connor home early on a week night, but rather than tiding up he seems to be contributing to the mess.

  
“Connor,” Oliver begins,“are you okay?”

  
Connor’s body language is screaming tenseness, screaming tiredness, screaming frustration. “Oh Oliver, thank god,” he says in lieu of greeting, “I’m looking for a file. The case file that I was telling you I brought home to look over. Annalise is gonna kill me if I lost it. I might save her the effort myself if I don't find it.”

  
Oliver points at the portion of the bookshelf that holds all of Connor’s school things, where a manilla envelope lays sideways on top of Connor’s law textbooks, “Do you mean that?”

  
Connor actually blinks in surprise, slow and weary as he walks towards the bookcase, dumbfoundedness settling across his face.

  
Connor mutters “How did I miss that,” more to himself than to Oliver, but even still Oliver replies

  
“Sometimes you need another pair of eyes, or” and he gestures jokingly to his glasses “a set of four eyes.”  
“Thanks Oli, you’re a life saver.”

  
Oliver presses a kiss to his boyfriend and casually asks, “So are you staying for the rest of the night or are you going to come back later?”

  
“I wish I could stay, but I gotta get back to the office. I already wasted so much time with this file. It was right on the book shelf too.”

  
“Alright, so I’ll see you later tonight then?” Oliver says trying to gauge just how busy he should expect Connor to be tonight.

  
“Don’t stay up, this case looks like it gonna be an all nighter.”

  
It’s not that Oliver begrudges all of the time that Connor spends at work or at school, he knew from the beginning just how busy Connor was, but he’s worried about him, worried about how tired he always seems.

  
“Oh okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” How Oliver manages to keep the disappointment out of his voice is beyond him, he’s never been a very good actor. Instead he finishes warmly, saying “Good luck on the case,” as Connor starts to walk towards the door.

  
“Thanks again Oliver, I’ll see you later” and with that Connor leaves, off to be a minion or free hard labor, or however it is that you classify what they do for Annalise. To Oliver “intern” is almost insulting considering all the hard work that Connor and his friends do for her.

  
_________

  
See you tomorrow turns into see you in a little over a month. It’s not that they don’t see each other per say, they are living in the same house, it’s just that Connor returns home later, sleeps later, and wakes up earlier than Oliver does.

  
In the evenings when Connor comes home hours after Oliver, at nine, ten, eleven, he’s exhausted. It’s really the only word for it. Oliver gets a warm “Hi Ollie” from Connor, which is their equivalent of honey I’m home. They make light conversation, and then Oliver opens his textbook and starts his school work. If Oliver’s lucky Connor’s in bed before midnight, but lately he goes to bed much closer to one or two in the morning.

  
Every morning at six thirty Connor wakes up and goes for a run while Oliver sleeps in till seven thirty. By the time Connor gets back in at ten minutes to eight Oliver’s out of the shower right in time for Connor to step in, and by the time that Connor steps out Oliver’s done with cooking breakfast for the both of them. It leaves them with twenty minutes to eat together if Connor doesn’t mind dropping Oliver off at the train station to get to work, and then the cycle begins again.

  
It’s hectic, mostly because of the case that Annalise is working on at the moment, something about a patient killing his therapist, but between the two of them they make it work.

  
That being said though, seeing each other for twenty minutes in the morning and twenty minutes at night over the course of a month isn’t really all that ideal. Oliver knows that if he pushed the issue Connor would force time more time into his schedule for Oliver. He’d cut down on running, visit him on his lunch break, start his work after Oliver goes to bed, make room somewhere. But all of that would cost Connor more sleep, and Oliver isn’t willing to deprive his boyfriend just because he feels like a neglected housewife. Especially not when he looks as frazzled as he does.

  
________

  
They won. They actually won this stupid fucking case. It’d be ridiculous just how good Annalise is if it wasn’t fucking scary. But Connor knows one thing now for sure, if he ever committed a murder, he’d want Annalise as his lawyer. The woman is fucking ruthless in her efficiency.

  
“You’re all free to go,” Annalise tells them when they step outside of the courtroom. “I don’t wanna see any of you outside of the classroom until next Monday. And Mr.Walsh? You were particularly commendable, meet me outside for the trophy.”

  
Considering that today is a Monday Connor actually thinks he heard her wrong, that she didn’t actually give them the week off. They all have equal looks of disbelief on their faces, including Frank and Bonnie, which is new to say the least.

  
The, “You’d all better go before I change my mind” that Annalise sends them is enough to have all of them scurry outside of her line of sight.

  
Even Asher's fist pump accompanied by a whisper yelled "Score!" isn't enough to put him in a bad mood.

  
“Lets go out for drinks. Celebrate this mess of a win” Michaela proposes.

  
“We’ve just spent the past month basically living in each other’s asses, why in the hell would I want to spend anymore time with any of you guys?”Connor says without any bite in his voice.

  
Last year if someone had told Connor he’d enjoy hanging out with these idiots he’d have said they were lying. If someone said that he’d decline on a night to go out drinking after what could only be classified as a month of celibacy, his longest stint since he was fourteen, he’d call them delusional. But he is, and more importantly he’s excited about what he plans on doing with Oliver, not just to Oliver but with Oliver. God, he’s changed.

  
Michaela feeds him a self indulgent smile and opens her mouth, “Or maybe you’ve just missed Oliver, god knows you’re the only one here with a healthy relationship outside of work.”

  
“C-man’s gonna score some with the O-man,” Asher grins, way too proud of Connor for him to even be annoyed.

  
But, just because he’s self aware enough to acknowledge the ways that he’s changed doesn’t mean that he wants other people commenting on it. “Whatever, guys I’m going. I’ll see you all next week, or year, or whenever. It’ll be too soon regardless.”

  
Connor only feels a bit of trepidation as he goes to meet Professor Keating by her car for the trophy. He got it taken away at the beginning of the case when he lost the file. He’d felt like such an idiot then, but no one had proven themselves worthy of it through out the case, or so it seemed.

  
When he’s close enough for her to talk with a low voice she looks him in the eyes, it’s a bit unnerving to be honest, and says “You did well, but it’s important to take care of yourself Mr.Walsh. It’d be a shame if you landed yourself in the hospital or an equivalent thereof because you were negligent with your health.”

  
The woman is too observant, and Connor knows that outright denying anything would be an admittance that there’s some sort of issue at play. There isn’t.

  
Instead he flashes a smile, goes for charming and casual instead of hostile and defensive. “It’s easy to get lost in cases Professor.”

  
“Spear me the platitudes Mr.Walsh. I think we both know these issues well enough to know how they spiral.” She hands him the trophy and continues, “You’re no use to me half dead and unable to think, if you need to talk to someone the student center has a comprehensive list of recommendations.” With that she turns, enters the car and drives off.

  
The encounter leaves Connor a little shaken as he enters his own car, but now he knows who to be most careful around.

  
______

  
Connor feels a little bad for ignoring his boyfriend the way that he has the past month. Ignoring probably isn’t the best word, neglecting is way more fitting. Oliver, sweet, wonderful, considerate, Oliver has been putting up with all this shit. Connor would like to say he’d have taken it as well if Oliver had been the one who had basically become a recluse for the better part of a month, but he knows it isn’t true. He’d probably take it as some sort of rejection, an impending break up, a subtle way of Oliver telling him to fuck off so he can finally move on with his life, so that he can find some one who really deserves him. Connor knows he didn’t do anything to deserve him, but he never wants to let go of Oliver. Never wants Oliver to let go of him.

  
_______

  
Oliver’s job is the definition of okay. The pay isn’t bad, his coworkers are alright, and the work is moderately stimulating. The only time his being gay has ever been awkward is with the few straight bros at his job. The truth is, they’re a lot like Connor’s classmate (Coworker? Friend?) Asher, genuine in their enthusiasm but also fairly ignorant in what is and isn’t appropriate to say. So when Oliver’s phone goes off at his desk he doesn’t feel the need to make Connor a Connie, to straighten their relationship in a way that makes the people around him comfortable, in a way that doesn’t jeopardize his career.

  
He doesn’t have to contain the excitement that comes from getting an unexpected call from his lover in the middle of his lunch break while he’s out with his friends.

  
“Connor, how are you” the people sitting with him can practically hear the smile in his voice.

  
“Are you gonna be able to get off at five today?”

  
“Five? Yeah, why?”

  
“There’s a surprise waiting at home.”

  
“What is it?”

  
“It’s a surprise.”

  
“You could just tell me.”

  
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

  
“Alright, alright. I’ll see you in the evening then?”

  
“Yeah, love you Ollie.”

  
“Love you too, Connor.” With that the phone call ends and one of Olivers coworkers wags his eyebrows

  
“Ooohhh, lover boy got a surprise for you?”

  
Oliver doesn’t deny it, but also doesn’t entertain their blatant nosiness, choosing to chastise instead,“Is this middle school guys?”

  
“You realize that we have to stay late for the updates right?”

  
“That’s today?”

  
Another one of his colleagues says “Don’t worry man, I got you covered. One of us should be getting laid.”

  
He really does like these idiots.

  
________

  
Connor manages to get home at noon. He’s got rose petals trailing the floor into the bed room, the fruity champagne that Oliver likes on ice-and there’s a gay joke in there somewhere, he just hasn’t found it yet- and last minute reservations to one of the new restaurants in town. It’s going to be perfect, all he has to do is take a nap and get up by four so he can get ready and pick up Oliver from work.

  
When Connor’s changing into more comfortable lounge clothes it’s the first time in a while that he’s really looked at himself in the mirror, and to his dismay he’s getting soft. It’s definitely the result of cutting down on his running time so he had enough sleep to function, he knew he shouldn’t have done that. But he was tired, so so tired.

  
Connor knows that he’s vain, embraces it even though he knows that he shouldn’t. Knows vanity is just a coverup for the real issues that he has with his body. He also knows that this is not a road that he should continue to thread. Not anymore, ideally not ever again. But between the case, and preparing for Torts, and the lack of sleep, Connor genuinely thinks he’s would have fallen apart if he didn’t have something to focus on. Besides, he’s just been counting calories to make up for the lack of running. He hasn’t cut them drastically enough where it’ll be an issue, and now that things have calmed down between school and work he’ll be able to pick up running again. It’s fine, he’s fine, this is not going to become an issue.

  
He’s lying to himself and he knows it.

  
________

  
Oliver isn’t childish. He has his own apartment, schedules his own doctors appointments, doesn’t only buy junk when grocery shopping, and is in a serious relationship. He is, by all metrics a mature and responsible adult, but he really loves surprises. So, if he’s a little quicker to rush into his apartment when he gets home from work no one has to know. Besides, it’s not like there’s going to be anyone to see how excited he is to find whatever it is that Connor left for him.

  
When he steps into the apartment the whole place is practically spotless, which is a surprise in and of itself considering that Connor barely has the time to breathe, much less clean the place to his own standards. Oliver tries, he really does to put things to Connor’s standards, but it feels like he always misses something.

  
What does take him by surprise is the trail of rose petals around the house, and his favorite bottle of champagne in a bucket of water on the kitchen table. It doesn’t take much to guess that the bucket of water was probably a bucket of ice. All of these are signs that Connor’s going to be home early today though, at least early enough for them to be able to drink together, and Oliver’s pretty excited.

  
The lump on the bed frightens him for a second, just because he wasn’t expecting Connor to be home. Seeing Connor at five-forty on a Monday afternoon is the best surprise that Connor could have given him. Oliver, however knows Connor well enough to know that while he’s extremely sentimental he wouldn’t out right state it, by making a big deal out of coming home early. Secondly, if Oliver goes in there right now he’s going to wake up Connor, and as much as he wants to talk to him, and hug him, and laugh with him, the man needs to sleep.

  
______

  
Connor wakes up groggy and but also extremely refreshed. Who would have known that a three hour nap in the middle of the day was all he needed. It with a dawning horror that he realizes it’s too dark outside to be four in the afternoon. Looking at the time on the phone he realizes that it’s half past nine. A three hour nap became an eight hour sleep. Shit.

  
Oliver’s in the kitchen, earphones plugged in, and singing that stupid Felicia song he likes so much. He practically has a heart attack when he turns around and sees Connor standing there staring at him.

  
“Oh come on,” he starts “I don’t dance that badly Connor”

  
“Ollie, I’m so sorry. I had this perfect plan, and there was wine and the rose petals, and dinner reservations. You weren’t even supposed to come to the apartment. I was gonna pick you up from work.” He groans, “you must be so disappointed”

  
“Hey, hey, Connor, relax.” He says in a soothing voice, before Connor can get too far into working himself up to be a nervous wreck. “Do I look like someone who’s disappointed to you? I’m over here butchering Bye Felicia, I was just really happy to see you. Besides, I made dinner, we don’t eat at home often enough anyway.”

  
“I’m so sorry Connor.”

  
“Apologize one more time and I’m going to have to keep singing.”

  
Connor walks towards Oliver instead and hugs him,

  
“I really missed you.” The words themselves are an apology, but one that Oliver’s willing to accept.

  
“Me too,” those words are forgiveness in the form of I love you.

  
“So,” Connor says brightly “What did you make?”

  
One of the greatest things about Oliver is that while he’s not a health nut, he does eat a fairly balanced diet. So when he cooks Connor doesn’t feel tempted to stand behind his shoulders and try to figure out all the hidden calories inside of his cooking like does with his sister and grandmother. It a real source of comfort for Connor, and while it makes him feel dirty he’s almost glad that they missed their reservations now. He’d estimated that all together his whole dinner would be at least one thousand calories without the champagne. But now, with Oliver cooking, the whole thing might come out to be six hundred even with the champagne.

  
A whole day with only six hundred calories, he hasn’t done that in a while. The only reason he’s doing it is because he slept through the day, and besides, he doesn’t want to steal Ollie’s food by taking more than his fair share.

  
“I won’t lie,” Oliver startles him out of his thoughts as he passes him a dish, “I kind of already ate. I made extra just in case you’d want more, but take as much as you want.”

  
After plating his food they both take a seat at the island in the kitchen, sitting next to each other. Oliver’s the one that starts the conversation,

  
“Did you guys win then, since you’re home so early that is?”

  
“Yeah we did, and Torts ended on Friday, and Annalise says she doesn’t want to see any of us outside of class till next Monday, so I am free. Free.” Connor drags the word out until sounds like he’s singing it.

  
“Wow, it’s like everything just accumulated and then vanished.”

  
“Yeah, I’ll actually probably get home before you most of this week. Since torts are over we’re only going to meet our professors to go over our exams for the next week, so I won’t even really have classes and I’m not going to the office this week either. I bet I could play the dotting house wife, trying to make up for neglecting my husband.”

  
Oliver practically snorts at the image, “I’m actually just happy you’ll finally be able to sleep. The amount of rest you were getting couldn’t possibly have been healthy. So do you know what you’re going to do during your spontaneous week off?”

  
Connor flashes a wicked grin and leans in towards Oliver, his voice lowers and deepens, it’s throaty and warm when he says “You.”

  
Oliver flushes, his own eyes darkening as Connor leans in even closer and says “I’ve missed you”

  
There words mirror the conversation earlier, lined with more primal meaning when Oliver says “me too.”

  
Connor is the one to initiate the kiss. Biting his boyfriends lower lip for access into his mouth. The two of them sit there for a moment, kissing but not touching, their lips getting bitten red until Connor pulls back.

  
“Ollie, I’m sure whatever you made is great, but well, bedroom?”

  
Oliver breaths “Bedroom,” in response and the two of them get up and pull apart for as long as it takes for their hands to start pulling off each other's shirts. Oliver leans against the kitchen wall, using his hand to pull Connor closer to him, feeling him gradually harden against his thigh as he rolls his hips against Connor.

  
It slow and sweet and torturous to Connor. Moving to the bedroom would allow more access to their bodies, but moving also means that Oliver would have to stop grinding against him. He feels like a teenager at boarding school again with the want and need that he feels for Oliver, it’d be a little scary if he hadn’t come to terms with the way that he needs the man long before.

  
But this, tonight isn't supposed to be about Connor. It’s about Oliver, and so he starts to bite a light trail on Oliver’s neck, each one getting darker and harder as he goes lower and lower into what a suit will cover. He stops around Olivers nipples, his right hand playing with one as his tongue plays with the other. Swirling, biting on the edge of pleasure and pain. Connor knows what Oliver likes, and tonight he’s going to give it to him.

  
_______

 


	2. The Bad Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor starts to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this on the Coliver master post on tumblr and I won't even lie, I totally squeaked. I did that rolling fan girl thing. Thanks to everyone who left kudos, and special thanks to e for being the first comment.
> 
> P.S. I'm still looking for a beta-reader and the chapter title came from "A Series of Unfortunate Events"

Connor’s alarm goes off the next morning when he’s already awake. He usually wakes up minutes before his it starts ringing, but he always lays in bed until he hears the steady beep-beep-beeping. The alarm it self is silent enough that it doesn’t normally wake up Oliver, who is, surprisingly, a fairly heavy sleeper.

  
The routine is simple for Connor; grab his keys, fitness tracker, and water bottle and he’s ready to go. Even his phone gets left behind when he goes for a run, he’d probably leave his keys behind too but he’s gotten locked out too often while Oliver is in the shower.

  
The hour and a half or so that Connor spends running every morning feels a little like breathing to him. It’s the one time of the day he really feels free from worry, from the ever present tightness that comes because he’s always screwing something up. One mile, two miles, three miles, four. Freedom, freedom, freedom with every step that he takes.

  
______

  
When Oliver wakes up it’s to a cool bed. As much as Oliver would like to roll over and just go deeper into the blankets there’s no real reason not to get up now, the fifteen minute head start will give him the opportunity to spend more time cooking breakfast, more time with Connor, especially considering that there’s no real reason to be in a rush this morning.

  
______

  
Connor stops his run right outside of the complex, his shirt is soaked and his face is flushed with a runner’s high. When he walks into the apartment he calls out “Honey I’m home,” to Oliver who he can see making their breakfast in the kitchen.

  
“Good morning Connor,” Oliver looks him up and down and says, “are you gonna shower first or do you wanna eat?”

  
“Aww, Ollie, I thought I was gonna play house wife for you”

  
Oliver smiles fondly at him, “Maybe you can make breakfast tomorrow morning instead, or I’ll wake up to a special surprise”

  
“And what type of surprise would that be Oliver?”

  
And, as fun as Oliver knows that it would be to play this game right here, right now, he really can’t afford to be late to work this morning. Especially after ditching on the upgrades that the company made last night.

  
So instead he coyly says, “I suppose I’ll just have to find out,” as he moves two plates to the table for them and takes a seat.

  
“Hey, do you want me to drive you to work this morning or just drop you off at the station?”

  
“Well it depends, what time do you have to get to class?”

  
“I’m free until like eleven today,”

  
“Yeah, it’d be great if you could drop me off at work then.”

  
After that the conversation expands, the two of them telling ridiculous stories and filling each other in on the last few weeks of their lives.

  
“And then he said, that’s what the IP address is for,” and Connor is practically doubling over in laughter at Oliver’s joke.

  
“There’s no way your boss is that much of an idiot Oliver. No fucking way.”

  
“ I swear its true. I’ve actually kind of been thinking about looking for a different job. The place doesn’t suck you know, it’s just okay. It doesn’t feel quite right, you know what I mean?”

  
“I’m sure you’ll be fine either way, plus what place wouldn’t wanna hire you” and Connor’s on the verge of pumping up Oliver, ready to be the supportive and empowering boyfriend when he notices the time. “Actually we should probably head out now if you wanna get their on time. I’ll clean up before I head to class.”

  
______

  
Oliver’s apartment is huge, or at least much bigger than anyone would have expected. Technically it’s not even just Oliver’s apartment since their names have both been on the lease since the middle of the semester. Connor will never admit that he got teary eyed when Oliver told him he wanted both their names on the lease because “We’re working on making a life together Connor,” but he’ll be damned if that wasn’t the best present anyone’s every given him.

  
Anyway, the point is that while the apartment is huge and has more than enough space to occupy both of their taste the place will always feel more like Oliver’s in Connor’s hearts than their’s because it’s so overwhelmingly decorated with his tastes.  
It’s not a bad thing though, because Oliver warms space the way that he warms Connor. If Connor had been the one to decorate it’d probably be as cold and sanitized as his own apartment was before he moved in, impersonal like his dorm room during undergrad and at boarding school. Instead there are book shelves piled and crammed with books, Doctor Who and Star Trek memorabilia in the randomness places, and the ugliest most hideous carpet that Connor’s ever seen but Oliver insists is homey, and while he’ll never admit it, the carpet has kind of grown on him.

  
______  
When Connor walks in after dropping off Oliver he goes around the apartment tiding up, picking this and that. Straightening things that are just a little out of place before finally heading to the kitchen.

  
The food that Oliver made was great, but not all that fitting for him. Eating to early after a run tends to leave him queasy, which is normally why he showers right after coming in. But really, after all the time they’ve spent apart lately delaying his shower didn’t seem like a big deal.

  
He still feels a little guilty clearing all the food on his plate into the garbage can, but honestly, Oliver benefits from his abs to so there’s no real lost. More importantly the place is spotless. Now though, starting at the empty plates that he barely ate from, Connor feels a bit uncomfortable.

He didn’t purposefully cause him and Oliver to miss dinner last night, things just wound up getting really heated, even if he was the one that drove the conversation in that direction in the first place. Skipping breakfast now will be perfectly fine as long as he’s in the acceptable weight range for his height. If he’s too low he’ll grab a cup of yogurt or some fruit and granola or something. Missing two meals hardly means that he’s falling off the wagon.

  
While Oliver’s apartment feels huge, the bathroom has always felt suffocatingly small. Which Connor admits is ridiculous, especially because his own bathroom, before he moved in with Oliver, was much smaller. But Connor also didn’t have a full length mirror or a scale in his own bathroom.

  
Gemma had practically made him swear a blood pact that he wouldn’t get either when she was helping him move out to Philly, and while it probably breaks the spirt of the promise, he can’t help that his boyfriend has them. Besides, what’s he supposed to say “Oliver mind throwing out the scale and mirror in your bathroom because sometimes I turn into a teenage girl?”

  
Either way, he’s just checking his weight to make sure that he’s in a healthy range. The scale is a tool not a judge, and there’s no reason at all to be scared of it. Even still, despite everything that he says to himself, Connor stands in front of the sleek black thing for a moment willing himself to get on.

  
He waits for it to tare and then he steps on, eyes closed, eyes looking at the ceiling, eyes looking anywhere but down, because he knows, on some level, that the number are going to determine his definition of okay.

  
167.5

  
The number blinks at him twice but it doesn’t initially register. It means that he has a BMI twenty four, which is dangerously close to twenty-five, the threshold between normal and overweight. It’s been just over three years now since he’s weighted himself, and this means he’s gained twelve almost thirteen pounds since then.

  
It’s horrifying and he’s going to fix this. One fifty five is a safe number, it’s a very safe number to weight. It’s what the doctors told him was healthy, and he is, without a doubt going to get back there. A BMI of twenty-two is good, it leaves him equal measures from underweight and overweight. They’ll be no doctors nagging that he weights too little, and his own body won’t be grossly hideous.

He’s got this.  
______

 


	3. I Was Dreaming Something Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note that I'm going to start expanding the tags on this, I might also change the warnings and the rating depending on how the story continues to progress. 
> 
> P.S. The title comes from Guilty by Marina and The Diamonds.

____

  
It’s been three months and Connor is on a roll, he almost feels giddy with the excitement that he feels. His grades are better, his body’s better, his running time is so much better. He can’t believe he used to take drugs to feel like this.

  
Strictly speaking Connor does not have a problem with drugs. He dabbled with adderall enough during undergrad that he knows it not worth it fall into addiction. However, it'd be a lie to say that he didn’t pop a pill every once in a while when he’s too tired and too restless between the internship, school, and running to properly function.

Besides, he thinks to himself jokingly, it’s what all the cool kids in law school are doing. Not that any of the cool kids have anything on him with the functional high that he’s working off of as a side effect of the weight loss and adrenaline induced high from all the running he’s been doing.

  
That night all those months ago when he showed up outside of Oliver’s apartment saying “I screwed up over and over again,” had less to do with him being high and way more to do with the phone call he got from his mother. His father had died, she said. The great Robert Kinney had finally kicked the bucket, and instead of feigning sympathy for the bastard he’d simply told his mom he was happy.

  
Happy that he was gone, happy that he was out of their lives, happy that the hold he’d tried to have on Connor since his childhood was finally free. Connor told her he was happy, happy that the fucking interloper was gone, besides, he’d added, he’s not my father. And she had called him an ungrateful bastard, called him selfish, told him he was unable to see beyond his childhood hatred and act like a fucking grown up for once in his life.

  
Even Gemma was stunned by his callous reaction to their stepfather’s death. She’d called him later, voice small and tender with grief saying “Mom told me you’re happy Dad’s dead Connor.”

  
And he wishes he could tell her the truth. Tell her that the man was an asshole. That their father, their stepfather, their whatever the fuck you wanted to call him had hated him even before he’d become the troublesome son that caused so much grief, but he couldn’t do it, not to her.

  
“That’s not fair to him Connor, I know that you two had your differences, but he loved you. He loved us even when he didn’t have too.”

  
He couldn’t shatter the image of the loving father she had created. Gemma had worked for so long to get over her grief of their real father abandoning them that she didn’t deserve to have another one smeared. Couldn’t let her know that Daddy Kinney hated baby Walsh so much, not while she was still steeping in grief.

  
“I’d like it if you could come to the funeral Connor, if not for mom- if not for mom then for me.”

  
It’d have been easier if the man had hated him because he was gay, because at least then he’d have the same sob story as every other fag that got rejected by their families. He’d have a real reason to be such a fucking screw up. But the man didn’t even have the decency to do that. His family, all of them, had accepted his sexuality with the grace and poise of a fucking feel good life time movie. His father hated him because Connor was “inadequate” and “selfish” and “not enough like Gemma to even warrant his breath.”

  
And when Connor had gotten off the phone with Gemma he’d gone for a run, and he ran and ran and ran until all of a sudden he realized that he was in front of Oliver’s apartment shaking, and trembling, and god damn it there was not enough air in his lungs or blood in his body.

  
In a way it would have been easier if it had been because of drugs then. Because when he finally came out of the shower and told Oliver that his father had died, well step father technically he’d been sure to clarify, Oliver had been horrified. He’d been ready to comfort and warm and tend to the wounds of grief, and Connor was so desperate for any human contact that didn’t make him feel dirty that he couldn’t even bother to correct him.

  
Plus, what it would it sound like to Oliver to learn that even though the man had payed for all of Connor’s schooling till he graduated university, and he’d payed for his boarding school, and he’d been the one responsible for the expensive life style Connor had been afforded he hated the man. That the man, for all his smiles, and small talk, and strong-firm hand shakes hated Connor. It’d confirm the notion that Connor only thought of himself, only used people until they could be cast aside like old play things. The muddled mix of emotions that Connor was feeling were pushed to the side in favor of the warmth of Oliver’s embrace.

  
The comfort that he got wasn’t at all being channeled to sooth the whatever type of fucked up relationship he had with his father-figure. No, Connor couldn’t really be bothered to spare his father that type of attention, not when it’s caused problems with his sister, the only relation that he really, truly, and wholeheartedly loves.

  
It’s not to say that he doesn’t love his mother though, their relationship is merely tense and stilted from all the times she took his stepfather’s side and turned away from her son. But Connor knows, that in her heart of hearts, she thought she was doing what was best. Thought that marrying a man like Robert Kinney would manage to help her guide her son into being good man. Besides, it’s not like either her or Gemma ever knew the truth about him. All they ever saw was a firm disciplinarian who constantly clashed with Connor, and really that’s not their fault.

  
There’s probably a level in hell made specifically for him though, because, retroactively, the relationship that Connor had with his stepfather got him back with Oliver. That hug they shared so early that odd morning long ago was the catalysis for rekindling their relationship. And Connor, Connor lying in their bed right now, spent and on the verge of sleep after his nightly activities with Oliver can’t bring himself to regret that.

___

  
_Gemma’s laying on the couch when she yells across the house for him “Hey Connor, come here for a minute.”_

_  
It’s a drag to have to go all the way across the hall and down the stairs to where she is in the living room, so he yells back “What do you want”_

_  
“No seriously just come here for a minute”_

_  
“I'll come later”_

_  
“Cooooonnnnnnnoooooorrrrrrr” she drags on his name, “Come here pleeeaaass-“_

He’s thirteen in this dream. He’s had it a million times, and truthfully the whole thing is more of a memory than a dream. He’s never quite figured out why Gemma is calling him so reverently in the beginning either. Maybe it’s because Gemma was safe, a refuge, a haven, a sanctuary in a sanitized, the only little bit of mess in the whole house.

  
Some times he thinks if he had gone to Gemma, then maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they are, which is ridiculous because his sister couldn’t have know who they were letting into their house.

  
_Gemma, who had been simultaneously yelling and whining across the house, cuts herself off immediately when their mother steps into the foyer from outside._

_  
“Seriously what is it Gemma” Connor calls at the top of the stairs, stiffening when he sees their mother._

_  
“Both of you, yelling like some sort of hooligans. I bet even the neighbors could hear you.”_

  
The lines are always the same in this dream and Connor mouths them along in his sleep. Oliver laughs a little when he gets into the bed. He has no idea what Connor is actually thinking of, but the line “the neighbors could hear you” makes him think of how vocal him and Connor can get.

  
_Their mother looks exactly the same as she always does, a lean woman who gave both Gemma and Connor their coloring. And really that’s all she gave them. She’s curt, strict, and very much a disciplinarian. Her cool nature doesn’t mesh very well with Connor and Gemma’s more casual ones._

_  
“I can understand Connor yelling like that Gemma, but you’re a lady, you really should know better.”_

_  
Her casual sexism is another root of the many problems between her and Gemma. Another reason she’d stay far away if not for her brother._

__  
“Anyway Robert is coming this evening for all of us to go out to dinner, I’d appreciate it if you were both ready by six.”  
Their mother’s new boyfriend is another.

_  
Robert Kinney is the embodiment of an asshole. I don’t even know why mom is dating him. Or at least that’s what Gemma has always told Connor. Every time they go out, every time she leaves for school, every time she remembers the name Robert Kinney, Gemma grimaces and tells Connor “make sure you-”_

_  
And this time Connor interrupts her “I know, I know, stay away from Robert.”_

  
It’s so painfully clear that that part of the dream is a warning, his life memories meshing with a his subconscious .

  
_I really don’t know what your problem with him his is Gem. He’s pretty cool. Well, cooler than any one I imagined Mom would end up with anyway.”_

_  
“Just stay away from him Con, something about him rubs me the wrong way.”_

  
Connor always thinks that the reasons Gemma hates him so vehemently in the dream, when in real life she had been carefully neutral until she warmed up to him, is because Connor wants an ally. Wishes that he had somebody who had taken his side without any prompting.

  
_Connor would take Gemma’s advice seriously, but she says the same thing about everyone of their mom’s boyfriends. The exact same thing. She told him that about James Potts, Samuel Gregstone, Adam Wakner. They rarely meet their mom’s boyfriends, but when they do Gem seems to make it her mission to hate them. Personally, Connor thinks it’s out of some misplaced loyalty to a Father that only she remembers, but he knows better than to say that. Knows way better than to speak either ill or well of their father depending on whether it’s his sister or mom he’s talking to. In the end it’s just easier not to speak of him at all, especially since it’s not like he has any actual memories of the man._

  
There’s always some sort of comparison to Robert to other men that Connor’s known in real life. The creepy part thought is that it’s always a comparison to men that Connor has actually dated. It edges too close to Daddy issues for Connor to touch, even if it’s a blaring message that his own subconscious is sending him.

  
_Everything about Robert can be described as long, not big, just long. His nose is long, his fingers are long, and Connor, quite humorously imagines that he must be long down there as well. Over all though, he is a tall, thin, and reedy man that has to bend over to hug their mother when he kiss her on the cheek in greeting._

  
In the dream Robert is grotesquely tall, in real life too the man was tall. Always towering over Connor as a teenager and even as a man, 6’5” to Connor’s 5’10.” It's always felt like a loss somehow, being half a foot shorter than the man.

  
This is where the dream turns into a memory, it’s always a mix up things that actually happen, thoughts that he actually had. Regardless of the memories that come in though, it always ends on the same dreaded note, Connor’s mom marries him.

_  
“Maria, you look lovely.” He moves over to Gemma and bends to kiss her to. Gemma shoots Connor, who's standing opposite of her, an exaggerated look of disgust as he says_

_  
“It’s great to see you, how is school going? I heard that you were thinking of applying to masters programs after you graduate next year.”_

_  
Gemma’s generic “It’s all fine” earns her a side ways glare from their mother, prompting her to elaborate._

_  
“I think the masters engineering program will supplement my degree well.”_

_  
“That’s quite good,” Robert starts “we didn’t have any female engineering students back in my day. But I did economics, so I’m not really all that caught up in the sciences.”_

_  
Robert turns towards Connor, “And you, you look like you’ve grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you.”_

_  
Connor bites his tongue, wanting to reply that he’s not some little kid you can impress by commenting on how much he’s grown. Instead he says “Thanks.”_

_  
_____

_  
It’s not that he doesn’t like the man, he really doesn’t have much of an opinion to be honest, unlike Gemma who seems to dislike him. He just doesn't have anything to connect with the guy over, and it’s not even like he understands why the man wants to be with his mother. Maybe it’s the money, or perhaps the perpetual lemon sucking face she has on is attractive to straight people, either way Connor knows that this man is probably going to be a permanent fixture in their lives._

_It’s not rare for them to meet one of his mothers boyfriends, but he can’t recall ever meeting one more than once and even though Gemma might it’s best not to ask because she always gets touchy about their mother’s dating life. Either way, he hopes it goes well. On the occasions his mom’s had a boyfriend to breakup with the fall out of the relationship always lead to a tense few weeks inside the house since their mother was particularly snappish._

_  
The dinner between the four of them was unremarkable in anything except for how limited the conversation was. Small talk and polite conversation only last for so long before stretches of silence start to fill the table. Even still, when Gemma and Connor enter the back of the car while their mother moves up front to sit with Robert, Gemma leans in conspiritally and whispers_

_  
“If I smile any longer my face is gonna break.” Which is enough to make Connor share a secret grin with his sister, the only true smile between the two of them all night._

_  
“Mom looked happy though,” he comments, to which she responds_

_  
“Of course she does, it’s the first time she’s found someone who agrees with her on everything. I’d probably be smiling to if I was in her position”_

_  
Robert interrupts their conversation, telling them “It isn’t polite to whisper” and through the rear view mirror Connor and Gemma share a look as they see their mother’s disapproving frown._

_  
_______

  
_It’s rare to think of New Hampshire as sweltering, but the intensity of the summer heat matches the intensity of it's frigid winters. It's too hot during the day to do anything but complain about the heat. But twice a day, when it’s too early in the morning for anything-even the sun- to be fully awake, and when it cools down in the evening Connor always goes for a run. Running, running is almost like breathing for Connor-no, lacrosse is like breathing. Scoring a point on the field, having everyone chant his name over, and over, and over again. Becoming his very own hero, that's like breathing. But running, running is close enough. Especially when it provides a reprieve from a home that's becoming more and more repressive as the days go on._

_  
Connor’s standing in the foyer with his shoes on, and foot out the door when he hears Robert tell his mother, in the tender, deceptive voice of his_

_  
“Darling, do you really think Connor should be out so late running.”_

_  
He doesn’t bother to stop, to wait for her to reply, because he knows, that without a doubt, this will be his last night run as long as Robert Kinney is a fixture in their lives._

_  
_______

_  
Connor cant believe that he ever thought that this relationship working out for his mother would be a good thing. He hopes they break up, he hopes that the stupid bastard leaves and never shows his dumb head again. He’d take a moping, snappish mother over this intruder any day. At least when his mother was snappish she wasn’t all that different from her regular self. You just had to be quicker to step back, quicker to avoid the back of her hand. But Robert Kinney, stupid Robert Kinney was going to be the death of him._

_  
“Honey, don’t you think Connor should do something other than read all those books? It’s not healthy to sit inside all day like that. All work and no play darling.”_

  
_And when Connor tries to defend himself by saying “Well I used to go running, but you said it’s to dangerous remember that” all he gets from his mother is “You shouldn’t talk back to Robert Connor, apologize.”_

_  
“But”_

_  
“Apologize”_

_  
“Sorry.” The apology is vile and bitter on his lips, but it’s better to pick your battles._

_  
______

_  
He finds that Robert Kinney is leaking into every facet of his existence._

_  
“ Sweetheart, wouldn’t it be great if Connor did this,”_

_  
“Should Connor really do that”_

_  
“Why doesn’t Connor,”_

_  
“Connor,”_

_  
“Connor,”_

_  
“Connor”_

_  
Jesus fucking Christ he was tired of the way this man, was interjecting into his life. And his mother, his mother always sides with him. Before she couldn’t even give a fuck. As long as his grades were good, he wasn’t causing any trouble, and didn’t give the neighbors anything to talk about she was perfectly fine with him doing his own thing. It’s not even like now she wants to play the doting mother, which he’ll admit to himself ( but only ever to himself) would be nice. No instead she has to some how get even more uptight? He’s like an insidious interloper slowly taking over pieces of his life._

_As shitty as everything is though, he’s grateful to have an ally in Gem. She rolls her eyes, mirrors his grimaces, makes fun of the. She’s dealing with her own problems with her mother and Robert, who conveniently now has something to say about her majoring in engineering. The solidarity that they share together makes the whole thing more bearable. But it doesn’t answer the nagging question at the back of Connor’s head. Why is their mother letting this man they barely even know into their lives like this?_

_  
_____

_  
There's two weeks left until Gemma moves back into her dorms, and Connor knows that she’s itching to leave. It’ll be painful when she’s gone. He can already imagine how much of a pain in the ass it’ll be to deal with his mom and Robert Fucking Kinney without Gemma their with him. At the same time though he can’t begrudge her her freedom, she stayed the whole summer and kept the attention of their hyper critical mother on herself even if she wasn’t able to do anything about Robert’s interference into his life. But two weeks isn’t long to have left with his sister._

  
_Connor calls,“Gemmy, Gemmy, Gemma,” as he walks into her room._

_  
t’s an old nickname he used to call her back when he was young enough for it to be cute. Even though she says it's annoying as shit now it always gets a smile out of her. But not this time, this time she’s laying in her bed with the headphones of her Walkman covering her ears and probably playing some overly obscure music that only she likes. It worries Connor a little that she looks like that, so pensive on her bed. So he pokes her. Repeatedly._

_  
“What the hell Connor”_

_  
“You look depressed as hell, did your stupid band break up? I told you you’re the only one who listens to them.”_

_  
Her expression lightens, but it still looks to forced for his liking._

_  
“Come with me to get ice cream Con, I’ll even pay for it since I’m such a wonderful person.”_

_  
The false bravado doesn’t make him feel any better either, but he’s not going to delay getting out of the house and having a taste of freedom for the first time in weeks, for the last time in god knows how long considering that Gemma’s leaving so soon._

_  
“Yeah, lets go.”_

_  
The ice cream place that Gemma takes them to is in the town over since the joke of a shopping center their WASP suburban town has only has three buildings-a McDonalds, a church, and a grocery store. Connor thinks it’d be pitiful if it wasn't so painful living their._

_  
The ice cream shop though is marvelous. It’s a tiny Coldstone with only five flavors of ice cream and an extremely bored looking server, but it’s still a reprieve from the monotony of home._

_  
When their sitting down with their orders Gemma takes a very long look at Connor and finally says_

_  
“Mom and Robert are getting married.”_

_  
_____

  
The dream ends at Gemma’s announcement of the impending nuptials, it’s the point of the dream that he always wakes up at. He doesn't know why it always stops there, there are far more horrifying memories Connor has, significantly stronger nightmare fodder for his brain to push onto him, and yet, without fail, it always stops there.

  
Connor thinks it could be because he’s just not ready to process the rest of the information, that he’s not really as over the man as he’d like to believe. That he can accept beginning, and he can deal with the end, but everything that happened in the middle is just too messy for Connor’s mind to deal with. Either way, the shitty dream signals the start of a shitty day. He might as well get up for his run now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, concerns, criticisms? Please leave a comment below, I love getting feed back.


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